1 I have a gift—by touching an object, I can locate its missing owner. People like me are called Trackers. Once, Elder Kinsman paid me a fortune to find his missing grandson, Shane. I drained years of energy to find him, but then Shane’s sister, Isabelle, called. She accused me of kidnapping him as part of a scam. "Find my brother in 24 hours," she hissed, "or I’ll kill your parents and send you their remains as a souvenir." But my gift has one rule: only one search per day. By the time I got home, my parents were dead. Isabelle branded me a fraud and murderer. I died in agony. Then I woke up—back on the day Elder Kinsman came begging for help. This time, I cut him off. "Sir, you’ve been misled. No one can find people like that. If they could, they’d be gods. Call the police instead." … I watched with cold eyes as Elder Kinsman pleaded with me, his own eyes brimming with tears. “Ms. Vance, I’m begging you, have mercy… Shane is only eighteen. He’s the future of our family…” I stepped back to pull my arm from his grasp, but he clung to me like a drowning man to a life raft. “I know the rules of the game. I’ll triple the fee! No, five times! If you find Shane, you can have half of the Kinsman family fortune!” “Mr. Kinsman, money can’t buy a life, and it can’t bend my rules. I told you, I don’t have this gift. Your best bet is the police.” He looked up, his wrinkled face a mask of pure despair. “But they all said you could! Three years ago, you found the Miller girl after she was gone for six months. Five years ago, you located the Hayes boy in that unmarked grave. Ms. Vance, those children got to live. Why can’t my Shane?” I stared at his trembling lips, a familiar ache rising in my chest. It had been the same in my past life. He had knelt in the mud of my small garden, telling me how he’d raised Shane himself, how the boy was dearer to him than his own son. My heart had softened. I took the jade pendant Shane always wore and burned through most of my energy to get a location. Just as I was about to speak, the phone had rung. I could hear the sound of chains clanking in the background of Isabelle’s call. “Tracker? Your parents are currently enjoying some stale bread I so generously provided. Would you like to hear them?” My mother’s muffled sobs echoed through the phone. “Release my brother, and I’ll release them. Twenty-four hours should be plenty of time for your little magic trick, right? Oh, and I forgot to mention, I’ve strapped timed explosives to their ankles. If my brother isn’t back, you can expect two boxes of minced meat to arrive on your doorstep.” I had run home like a madwoman. The first thing I saw was the iron box on the kitchen table. Inside was a neat arrangement of bloody, unidentifiable flesh. Isabelle had been leaning casually against the doorframe, toying with Shane’s jade pendant. “So much for your ‘gift’,” she’d said with a smirk. “Couldn’t find my brother, and you got your own parents killed. Men, take her away.” Then she’d smiled sweetly at me. “Come along, little fraud. I’ve already prepared a coffin just for you.” Her bodyguards dragged me away like a dead dog. I was thrown into the Kinsman family’s basement and subjected to days of unimaginable torment. As I lay dying, she had whispered in my ear, “If anything happens to my brother, I’ll make sure your parents never know a moment of peace, even in the afterlife.” 2 “Ms. Vance? Ms. Vance, are you alright?” Elder Kinsman’s voice pulled me back to the present. I blinked, realizing he was now kneeling on the ground before me. “What are you doing?” I scrambled to pull him up. “I’m begging you… Shane came to me in a dream last night. He said he was cold. The boy’s been frail since he was a child. Ms. Vance, please, think of it as a good deed. For the sake of an eighteen-year-old boy… save him!” “I don’t have that power.” “You do! I know you do!” His fingernails dug into my arm. Just as I was about to speak again, the sound of hurried footsteps approached the courtyard gate. Right on schedule. “Grandfather! What are you doing on your knees?! You—you conniving bitch! How dare you bewitch my grandfather!” Isabelle Kinsman’s voice was like a shard of poisoned ice. Seeing her grandfather kneeling, she rushed forward and kicked me hard in the back of my knee. I stumbled but caught my balance, staring at her coldly. “What are you looking at? You think that pretty face is enough to swindle the Kinsman family? Why don’t you take a good look at yourself in a puddle first? If anything happens to my brother, I’ll peel the skin from your face and feed it to the wild dogs!” “Isabelle! Show some respect!” Elder Kinsman struggled to his feet with his cane. “Grandfather, don’t let her fool you! These street magicians are experts at putting on a show! I bet she’s the one who kidnapped Shane, trying to extort us! Just you wait. I’ll chop her fingers off right now and see how she performs her little tricks then!” Isabelle suddenly leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “Your parents are still out in the countryside, aren’t they? How would you like it if I sent some people to ‘invite’ them over for a visit? They can see for themselves what a murderous, thieving daughter they raised.” “You wouldn’t dare!” I shoved her hand away. “Wouldn’t I? Last time some hack from downtown tried to cross me, I had his parents’ graves dug up and their ashes scattered to the wind. Tell me, if I had your parents’ arms and legs cut off, turned them into living torsos, and shipped them overseas… don’t you think that would be a worse fate?” “Isabelle, you’re insane! Those are two innocent lives! If your brother… if he dies… he would never rest in peace knowing what you’ve done!” “My brother? If anything happens to my brother, I’ll make this entire city burn for him! And this bitch will be the first to go! I’ll cut out her tongue, sever her tendons, and gouge out her eyes. Let’s see her pretend to be a Tracker then!” Elder Kinsman collapsed to the ground, bowing his head again and again, his old face streaked with tears. “Ms. Vance, please, don’t take it to heart. She’s… she’s just mad with grief…” Everyone in the city knew how vicious Isabelle Kinsman could be. I knew it better than anyone. But I had already died once. This time, without my help, I was morbidly curious to see how Shane Kinsman would defy his fate. A grim satisfaction bloomed in my chest. The debt she owed me, owed my parents… I would collect it in full, with interest. Seeing the flicker of a smile on my face, Isabelle’s rage intensified. She shoved me violently against the wall. The impact sent a burst of black spots across my vision. Isabelle gestured to the bodyguards at the gate. “Take the old man back to the estate. And don’t let him leave without my permission.” “Isabelle! You can’t do this! Only Ms. Vance… only she can save Shane!” Elder Kinsman cried out as he was dragged away. The courtyard gate slammed shut, plunging the world into silence. It was just the two of us. She sauntered over to the small table and picked up the locket my mother had given me, something I’d worn for over twenty years. She held it between two fingers as if it were something foul. “I hear this is the good luck charm your mother crawled up a thousand temple steps to pray for. Peasants will be peasants. No wonder she raised a fraud like you. Clearly a case of no proper upbringing.” I moved to snatch it back, but she stomped her foot down on my wrist. The sharp stiletto heel ground into bone, and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead from the searing pain. “What’s the hurry? Aren’t you the great actress? Keep it up. Now tell me! Where did you hide my brother?” “I didn’t kidnap him.” My voice was shaking, not from fear, but from a deep, burning hatred. “No? Fine. Name your price. How much to get him back?” “I told you, I didn’t kidnap him!” She laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Playing hardball, are we? Fine. Have it your way.” She raised her voice. “Bring them in!” At that moment, the courtyard gate creaked open, and I heard a familiar, desperate cry. 3 My head snapped up. Two bodyguards were dragging my parents into the courtyard. My mother’s hair was disheveled, and a trickle of blood ran down my father’s temple. “Dad! Mom!” “Let them go!” I roared, scrambling to crawl toward them, but Isabelle’s foot pressed down harder on my back, pinning me to the ground. She crouched, yanking my hair back. “Fine! Release my brother first! Or you can watch me turn your parents into living torsos, piece by piece!” “Miss, please,” my mother sobbed, her body trembling. “Our Aria is a good girl… she’s not a con artist! She would never do something like this!” “Not a con artist?!” Isabelle snatched an iron rod from one of the guards and brought it down hard on my father’s leg. A sharp crack echoed through the yard, followed by my father’s agonized scream. The shock sent my mother into a dead faint. “Dad!” I tried to crawl forward, but Isabelle’s heel dug deeper into my spine. She used the iron rod to lift my father’s chin. “Your daughter kidnapped my brother for money. As her parents, you share the blame. If she won’t talk, you will.” My father, though contorted in pain, glared at her. “You… monster… my daughter would never…” “Still stubborn?” She swung the rod again, breaking his other leg. He let out a choked gasp, his shirt instantly soaked with cold sweat. Just as Isabelle was about to use the rod to pry open his mouth, the sound of a powerful car engine cut through the air. A man in a tailored suit strode into the courtyard, followed by four imposing bodyguards. The sheer force of his presence made Isabelle’s men tense up instinctively. “Marcus Austin? What are you doing here?” Isabelle frowned, her voice laced with hostility. The Austin and Kinsman families had been business rivals for a decade, and Marcus was the competitor she despised most. Marcus didn’t even look at her. His gaze fell on me. Seeing the blood on my wrist and the scene of carnage on the ground, his brow furrowed. He signaled his men, who effortlessly pushed Isabelle aside and helped me to my feet. “Ms. Vance,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I’ve come to request your services.” Isabelle let out a shrill, piercing laugh. “Marcus, are you blind, or did you just hit your head? The whole city knows this woman is a charlatan who cons people out of their money. Is the Austin family fortune so vast you can afford to throw it away on gutter trash like her?” She suddenly lashed out, kicking me in the knees. I crumpled to the ground, my chin hitting the stone pavers with a sickening crack. The taste of blood flooded my mouth. “Take a good look at her!” Isabelle shouted at Marcus, her foot pressing down on my back. “Yesterday she was picking through rotten vegetables at the farmer’s market, and today she’s playing at being a Tracker? I bet she couldn’t even find her own parents’ graves!” Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Isabelle, watch your mouth.” “My mouth?” She laughed as if he’d told a joke, then grabbed my hair and shoved my face toward him. “You’re pinning your hopes on this? I bet your niece was kidnapped by a fraud just like her! For all you know, she’s being sold to a brothel right now to pay this bitch’s bills!” My father, trembling with rage, tried to push himself up. “You’re lying! My daughter is not—” Isabelle backhanded him across the face with the iron rod. Blood streamed from the corner of his mouth. “Shut up, old man! She doesn’t have any real gift! Her parents probably raised her on money they scammed from a marriage proposal! This whole family is a brood of vipers!” Marcus’s face turned to stone. “Isabelle, that’s enough.” She just laughed, pulling a crumpled ball of paper from her pocket and tossing it at his feet. “I found this under her bed this morning! Probably her little book of scams.” It was actually a collection of recipes my mother had written for me. Mangled as it was, it could be whatever she claimed it to be. “Oh, Marcus, Marcus,” she taunted. “Your niece has been missing for three days. Was she taken by one of your enemies? You must be truly desperate to turn to a fraud like this. Then again, I suppose the great Austin family can’t afford a decent private investigator anymore. Oh, that’s right, you’re on the verge of bankruptcy, aren’t you? Ever since your father’s failed investment last year, you’ve practically had to mortgage the family estate!” “Enough!” Marcus’s voice was as cold as ice. But Isabelle was reveling in her cruelty. “Did I strike a nerve? It’s pathetic, really. Ignoring the police to hire a psychic who claims she can find people by sniffing their underwear. The whole city will laugh at you! Your niece would be better off dead than being used in a scam by this parasite!” She raised her foot and stomped down hard on my hand. The sound of bone crunching mixed with my own cry of pain. “Talk! Did you sell my brother off already? Are you trying to scam the Austins now, too? I’m telling you, if you don’t produce my brother today, I’ll strip you naked, hang you from the gate, and let every stray dog and homeless man in this city have a taste—” Her phone began to ring, shrill and insistent. Her voice trembled as she answered it. “Hello? … What? … No, that’s impossible! You’re mistaken!” Whatever was said on the other end made her let out a terrified scream. The phone slipped from her grasp and hit the ground, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks. Isabelle scrambled to her feet and bolted, shoving Marcus hard as she ran past him. “Marcus, you watch this bitch for me! If a single hair on her head is out of place, I’ll gouge out your niece’s eyes and use them as marbles!” Marcus waved a hand, and his bodyguards immediately moved forward, carefully helping me to my feet. “Ms. Vance, let me get you and your parents to a hospital.” Meanwhile, Isabelle raced home. She burst through the living room doors to find Elder Kinsman collapsed on the sofa. On the mahogany table before him sat a black box, its edges dripping with a dark, reddish liquid. “Grandfather!” She lunged forward. The box tipped and fell, and a severed hand rolled out onto the floor. On the inside of the wrist, a lopsided sun tattoo seared itself into her vision. She’d taken Shane to get it two years ago. He had been so afraid of the pain, he’d cried and squeezed her hand for half an hour, causing the artist to botch the design.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393787", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel